


At First Sight

by Itrustyoutokillme



Category: Grey's Anatomy, Prison Break
Genre: AU, Angst, Crossover, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-03
Updated: 2017-05-03
Packaged: 2018-10-27 07:11:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 16
Words: 21,775
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10804326
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Itrustyoutokillme/pseuds/Itrustyoutokillme
Summary: AU Prison Break Fanfic.Fate has a way of bringing them together many times. It doesn't matter where they are, he will find her.**Winner: Best Crossover Fic at The Master Criminal Fanfiction Awards Round 2****Winners: Best Angst Fic at the Michael and Sara Fic Awards**





	1. She

The book Michael was reading wasn’t very interesting. It hadn’t held his attention since she walked through the heavy glass doors to the Chicago restaurant. He ate here every day for his lunch and had never noticed her before. She’d glided through the doors and seated herself right in his line of sight, rays of glowing sunshine illuminating her entire body. Michael was taken with her beauty.

He watched her over the top of his novel, glancing at the pages every now and then to uphold charade. She brushed her fiery red hair from her face with a delicate hand and Michael caught sight of her eyes. They seemed tired but were large and full of life and love. He stared for a little longer then his previous intervals before shaking himself back to his book. Casually he cocked his head around the rest of the restaurant, but no one had seen him.

Michael crossed his legs and lent back in his chair, the metallic finish feeling cold through his shirt. The sun continued to beat down on her across the restaurant and she removed her jacket. She was wearing a casual blouse that had a little pattern around the three quarter length cuffs and black pants. Her hair was just wavy and it fell in cute piles on her shoulders. She was lost in the menu before her. Michael laid his book pages down upon the metallic surface of the table and rolled his long blue sleeves up his forearms. The restaurant had suddenly become very warm in his shaded corner.

The waiter approached him and startled him from his daydream. “Can I get you anything else Sir?” he asked in a polite manner, his pencil poised above the small notepad in his hand. Michael averted his eyes for a second to dismiss the waiter with a hand gesture and a headshake before he returned his gaze. Another waiter had approached her and his pencil busily jotted her order on the pad before him.

She smiled. Michael’s breath caught at the sight, expelling from his broad chest silently. The corners of his mouth crept upwards slightly as he smiled to himself, resuming his hiding place behind his very unreadable novel. His eyes kept rolling over towards her and he wondered if anyone had noticed him not turn a page in the last ten minutes. As he did so, her drinks order arrived, a fine glass of water being placed before her. She shook her hair from her shoulders as she thanked the waiter and took a sip.

Michael watched her full, luscious lips connect with the glass and he gulped. A dry lump fell down his throat and his Adam’s apple bobbed upwards slightly followed by a deep cough. She placed her glass back on the crisp white tablecloth and snapped her head towards his direction. Michael dropped his head towards his book, a rush of adrenaline surging through his body at being caught. Content that he was fine; she continued to wait for her meal, flicking through the deserts menu.

Michael’s breathing increased and he was scared to look up. His cheeks flushed with pink briefly before he realised she hadn’t seen him. Slowly he lifted his head, ready to turn away at the slightest revelation that she had. The waiter was placing her salad type meal in front of her as she played with a silver fork, stroking it with her nimble fingers, and thanking him with a smile. Eagerly she began to eat whilst thumbing the pages of a magazine placed next to her plate.

Again a waiter interrupted Michael’s view, passing between the space between them to tend to other lunch goers. Michael’s eyes fell back to the book as he flipped the page, cracked open the spine and cursed the waiter. It wouldn’t take her long to eat a salad and as the waiter scuttled off to the kitchen again, Michael could see she was already finished, glossing her tantalizing mouth with a napkin. She took another long sip of her water before pushing her chair backwards and positioning her black suede jacket on her shoulders.

Michael sat forward in his chair, his dog eared book loosing its page as he pulled his thumb from its place, and he reached for his own jacket. She gathered her magazine into a shoulder bag and the waiter thanked her profusely for her tip. As she got up to leave a small white card with a silvery clip attached fell from her lap but she was unaware. Michael hurriedly threw some newly pressed bills onto the table before him and headed for the fallen item. His now forgotten book was left behind.

He bent down on one knee to retrieve the item. It was about the size of a credit card, white with a barcode on one side and her serene photograph on the other. He searched the restaurant for her image and caught it just leaving through the side door, her auburn locks bouncing as she moved. He pushed himself to his feet and rushed as best he could through the crowded tables and out onto the street.

Michael was taller then most people and could easily see over the semi crowded Chicago street. He was drawn to her as she strode confidently down the street, clutching her bag as her side. Michael took off in her direction gripping her property in his hand. The traffic lights changed as she stepped onto the opposite side of the road and a car screeched to a halt, Michael’s large paw slapping its hood. The driver honked his horn and threw his arms at Michael who ignored his abuse and searched the unaltered crowd for her once again. She was gone.

Michael hurried back to the restaurant, scrawled his address onto a napkin and handed it to the waiter on the cash desk.

“If I woman comes back for an ID card she lost here, send her here” he instructed them, tapping his address on the napkin before leaving the restaurant. He was late back from lunch for the first time ever. It was a good job he was the boss.

 

 

 


	2. Touch

This evening was hot and humid. It wasn’t a normal evening for Chicago, a city usually overly windy or pouring with rain. It was well past Summer and the Fall evening was almost romantic. Michael stood in his apartment, his azure gaze cast out over the lightly rippling river below. The sun had just begun to set, its last rays of warmth lighting his face, casting a shadow across his flooring. With the setting of the sun died Michael’s hope that she would come.   
  
A tiny knock at the door made him smile when he realised she had come. He padded barefoot across his floor, his slightly nervously sweaty feet sticking briefly to the laminate. He peered through the spy hole to catch her absently searching the hallway for any indication of the apartments occupant. As she turned her back to him, he turned the knob and opened the door.  
  
She spun on her heels, her faced full of anticipation, nerves and shyness. Michael’s gaze met hers as a long silence between them ensued. Her mouth hung slightly open, her beautifully shaped mouth slightly moist. Her wide eyes looked him up and down, drinking in his presence. She noted he was wearing a blue shirt, sleeved rolled up to his elbows, black pressed slacks and a silk tie hung loosely around his collar. Also, he was barefoot.  
  
She extended a hand but remained fixed to the spot. Michael met her hand half way and heat exploded in their hands as they touched ever so lightly. “Dr. Tancredi” he greeted her like they had known each other for years. She was a little taken back that he knew her name before he flashed her a relaxing smile.  
  
“Call me Sara” she smiled back, their hands lingering together longer then they needed to. Neither wanted to let go as their eyes danced in the brightly lit hallway.  
  
“Sara” he repeated, almost a whisper. Her name was as beautiful as she was, and she shied away under his words, taking her hand from the security of his warm touch. Sara cleared her throat, a tiny cough escaping her lips as she averted her eyes to the floor.  
  
She knew he had known her name. It was printed in block capitals on her ID card. SARA TANCREDI, MD. Inwardly she smirked to herself before remembering why she had come here. “The restaurant said you had my ID card” her eyebrows pulled together at her brow as if she was trying to think of something else to say. As she looked back to him, Michael pulled his smooth hands from his pocket, the card coming into view.  
  
“You dropped it in the restaurant” he handed her the card, stepping out into the hallway, pulling them closer together. Sara neither moved nor reacted to his advance, simply reaching out her hand to take her card. Their hands touched lightly once more, sparks of invisible electricity jumping between them. The card was warm from his pocket and Sara felt instantly embarrassed by her photograph staring back at her from their hands. Retracting his hand, Michael placed it back into his pocket.  
  
He smiled as Sara stared at him with a furrowed brow. His smile cracked into a light laugh when he asked, “What?” his mouth lingering open and his hot breath heating the already humid air between them. Sara let out a little laugh back before she answered, “It’s nothing” shaking her head and taking a step back. “I should go” she needed to make a quick escape before he melted her with any more laughter. She turned full circle and dragged her feet along the corridor, not wanting to leave. “Thank you” she called behind her, her eyes fixed on the silvery elevator doors before her.  
  
Michael watched her go, observing her reluctance. “I’m Michael by the way” he called cheerfully after her, causing her to turn to him and begin walking backwards.  
  
“Michael” she mimicked his earlier whisper, testing his name on her tongue. She beamed a smile at him, and received one in return as they grew further and further apart down the hall. She reached out to call the elevator, pressing her finger into the clear, marbled button. She could feel his eyes penetrating her as she waited, knowing he was still there, just like he had been in the restaurant. She dipped her head low and gave herself a grin, interrupted only by the ding of the elevator arrival.  
  
She stepped into the mechanical box and as she turned to face the button panel she caught him out of the corner of her eye watching her. She pressed the ground floor button and the doors jolted, pulling themselves together slowly. She stepped to the centre of the elevator and caught his stare once more. “See you around” she told him as they sealed shut.  
  
Michael felt that lump in his throat again as he recalled her touch, her voice, her smell. Her everything. She was perfect, in every way. Even her imperfections, which Michael doubted she even had, would be perfect. As he stepped back into his apartment a familiar yet unpractised smile crept across his lips. He closed his door with a soft clicking noise and lent his broad shoulder back against the hardwood panel.  
  
“See you around” he confirmed to himself.

 


	3. Think

Michael sipped his hot cappuccino, the chocolate sprinkled froth lingering across his lips as he concentrated on his novel. He had yet to see Sara again and “See You around” was turning into never. His strong hands gripped the smooth black mug and he took another sip as he expertly turned the page of his book with his thumb. The restaurant was unusually quiet for a Tuesday but Michael didn’t mind. It gave him room to think. To think of Sara.  
  
All thought was erased from his mind as his sensitive ear picked up on a voice. A voice like liquid chocolate, hot and indulgent as it asked, “Is this seat taken?” Michael immediately smiled, placed his book once again upon the metallic table, pushed his chair backwards to stand and motioned for the voice to take a seat. The smile across his face combined with his heart fluttering in his chest, told him he had missed her.  
  
“I can’t stay long, I’m already running late,” Sara told him hurriedly, causing a pang of sadness to tug at his heart. Once she had taken her seat, she shuffled the chair inwards towards the table, the sound of metal clinking with metal as the handles collided with the table edge.  
  
“Oh” Michael tried not to sound to disappointed. She was a very welcome surprise to his mundane day so far, so he tried not to waste time with irrelevant conversation. He sat after she did, pulling his chair in towards her across the table. He rubbed his slightly sweaty hands over his thighs before leaning forward on the table, interlocking his fingers together on the tabletop.  
  
She brushed her hand across her brow, pulling a few stray strands of her beautiful hair from her beautiful face and tucked them forcefully behind her ear. Her bag slipped from her shoulder and landed with a thud on the floor and she sat with her hands pressed together in between her knees. “I am on my way back to the hospital,” she told him.  
  
Michael’s hands were turning white before he realised he had been squeezing them together with nerves. He tried to find something to say but no words came out. He was dumbfounded by her beauty as she sat across from him in the empty restaurant.  
  
“Listen,” she said in a quick demanding tone as she took one of his hands roughly, turning it so the palm faced her. Her pen tickled as she drew her telephone number onto his palm and then held his hand, giving it a small squeeze. Michael watched her, fascinated by her every move. Her every move that sent his mind racing with so many thoughts and images he got lost in so often. “Call me later?” she caught his gaze.  
  
Was that a question? An instruction? Michael wasn’t sure but before he could register her words properly he hand slipped from his and she grabbed her bag from the floor, pushed her chair across the soft carpeted restaurant floor and stood. Michael stood opposite her and glanced at the number on his hand. “Uh…ok,” he blinked, giving her a nervous smile between short needed breaths. Her face beamed with joy as she left the restaurant, turning to give him a short wave as she did.  
  
  
Michael thought about her for the rest of the day. He thought about how her hands felt, and how warm they were, comforting, safe. He thought about how she smiled to him, for him, and how much of an incoherent idiot he must have looked. He knew she found his demeanour around her amusing. She had the power and she knew it.  
  
Michael took a scrap of paper from a notepad on his desk and ever so carefully copied the number from his palm onto it. It was a cell number, an instant contact to Sara wherever she was. Glancing at his watch he noted the time was too early for her to home from work yet, and besides, he didn’t want to look too eager did he? He would shower first.  
  
Michael liked the feeling of the water beating down on his skin. It was warm and it reminded him of Sara. The water made his fingertips softer then usual and somewhat crinkled in appearance. Again he thought of Sara and her sensitive touch, the way her fragile fingers glided over his smooth yet manly skin, electrifying his soul.  
  
Stepping from the shower, he ran a damp hand across the condensation that had settled across his mirror. He stared at himself for a long while, sighing to himself. Michael just had to admit it. Sara was on his mind, she was all he could think about, and she was all he did think about. The air between his small bathroom and the larger bedroom was cooled, rushing his body as he opened the door between them. Reaching the telephone he picked up the receiver in one hand and dialled Sara’s number with the other.  
  
The connection was made with a slight crackle on the line and after a few seconds it began to ring. Three rings later another crackle established a connection. Michael breathed in suddenly, his skin prickling with excitement.  
  
“Hey Sara, it’s Michael” he breathed into the mouthpiece.

 


	4. The Kiss

Sara sat at the bar, he head resting heavily on her hand while her elbow propped it up above her drink. She took the thin red straw in her hand and swirled around the ice that was watering her drink down in the bottom. With a sigh she puffed air from her lips, thankful for her first real vacation from work in a few months. Sara had the week off and for the first time in a long time, she had agreed to go out with friends.  
  
Her friends were living it up on the grimy bar floor, weaving and dodging back and forward to the loud hum of the music. She had refused to dance, knowing that she would be more content at the bar, alone. Sara felt a sudden familiar burn in her back, a smile creeping across her features. “We have to stop meeting like this” she joked, not turning around.  
  
Michael pulled the stool out beside her and perched on it, placing his order with the barmen. He watched sip another mouthful of her drink and noticed her heavily lidded eyes as she turned to him. Her eyes caught his like they had so many times before and they just stared. Sara was lost in his eyes, those eyes that were the deepest shade of grey/blue she has ever seen. They say the eyes are the window to the soul and Sara wanted to see Michael’s soul.  
  
Michael’s drink arrived on the bar and she burst out laughing. Surprised Michael laughed with her but had no idea what he was laughing at. “What’s so funny?” he asked, taking a swig of his beer straight from the bottle. Sara’s giggling subsided only briefly enough for her to tell Michael, “I think your stalking me,” trying to muster her best sober person impression.  
  
Michael placed his beer bottle back onto the bar with a dull thud that echoed through the glass. “I think…” he began, unable to tear his eyes from Sara, looking her up and down with a greedy glance. Sara smiled and closed mouth smile, swallowing the drink she had between her lips awaiting the rest of his proclamation. “…that you’re drunk Dr. Tancredi”. Sara burst into laughter once more.  
  
“Formalities! Formalities!” she exclaimed, rocking backwards on her bar stool. Michael threw out his hand to catch her should she fall and his giant hands connected with her slender shoulders. Sara rocked back forward and noting her glass was empty, took an ice cube between her fingers and popped it into her mouth. Michael let his hand linger on her back and watched her with a passion.  
  
“Maybe your drunk ass should introduce us,” Michael turned to inspect a petite woman standing beside Sara, her dirty blonde hair hanging in loose curls over her bare shoulders. Her eyes grazed over Michael’s body, taking in his smart shoes, his dark slacks and his burgundy shirt that hid a very muscular body beneath. His two top buttons were undone and he was clean-shaven.  
  
Sara slouched in her stool a little shooting Michael a smile as he quickly retracted his hand from her body in awkwardness. Sara looked between her friend and Michael and introduced them. “Meredith, this is Michael. Michael, this is Meredith.” Michael smiled his welcome and Meredith whispered something in Sara’s ear before winking toward him and flying back to the dance floor.  
  
Michael took another mouthful of beer as Sara apologised for her friend. She explained she was visiting from Seattle where she was recovering from a bad relationship. She was a surgical intern that had been sleeping with her boss only to find out he was married when his wife arrived out of the blue. “We went to medical school together,” Sara clarified, ordering another drink.  
  
“Do you think that is wise?” Michael motioned to the barmen to cancel her order. Sara pouted in protest and instead took a slurp of Michael’s beer. He watched as she threw her head back and drank hungrily from his bottle, the cold droplets on the bottle running towards her mouth and down her chin. Michael stretched out a hand and caught the water as it reached her jaw, wiping it away on his slacks. Sara looked undeterred as she thudded the bottle back on the bar, licking her lips.  
  
The music around them was upbeat, a mixture of old and modern music from a DJ come traditional jukebox in the corner. He played requests and a slow steady introduction filled the air as someone requested a love song. Sara grabbed Michael’s hand and slid off the stool tugging on his arm. “Come dance with me” she pleaded and he reluctantly followed her to the dance floor.  
  
Michael felt uneasy under the dim lighting of the floor. Couples paired up and huddled against each other as they swayed. Sara took Michael’s hand and laid it around her back, his skin enjoying the feel of hers as it made contact where her dress exposed some skin. He was tense as she placed her small yet skilful hands against his chest, resting it lovingly over his heart. Without thinking Michael brought his other hand up and took her hand in his, holding both of their hands over his heart. Connecting them, their souls.  
  
Sara laid her head against Michael’s chest and the swayed to the music. The music soon disappeared, as did everything around them when Sara gently lifted her head to look into Michael’s eyes. She could feel his heart beat racing and hers was under the same torture in her chest, adrenaline rushing through her. They looked into each other’s eyes for a long while, talking but not, a silent conversation only they could hear.  
  
A second later Michael dipped his head; eyes closed and softly planted a kiss upon Sara’s lips. They stopped swaying and Sara pressed further into Michael’s body, taking her hand from his and snaking it around the back of his neck. There is rested, fingertips brushing playfully at the soft downy neck hair he had there. Michael’s other hand dropped to join his other on Sara’s back and they melted away from the world.  
  
All Michael could hear was the beat of his heartbeat and all he could feel was Sara under his hands. Sara parted her lips gentle to allow Michael entry and he complied, hungrily massaging her tongue with his own. Their skin bristled with impassioned want, buzzing to life under each other’s hold. She tasted like beer in his mouth and sent him to places he had never been before. Places he wanted to go more often.  
  
Sucking in a breath, Sara broke off the kiss. They stood there on the silent dance floor, staring into each other’s abyss, panting arduously with passion.  
  
“Let’s go,” Sara told him leading him from the floor, fingers interlocked, never wanting to let go.

 


	5. Need

They were ablaze with passion. Their kiss had sent them both to places they had never known, places that gave them so many feelings. Sara had hailed a cab as soon as they had left the bar, dragging Michael almost on top of her and they stumbled in.  
  
Sara had told the driver her address through laboured breath; her eyes had fluttered closed when Michael had planted his lips to her neck. They were slightly wet but warm, causing a burning in her stomach and her heart to beat faster. She roughly grabbed his soft shaven head, pulling it closer to her neck, wanting to feel his lips everywhere. The journey had been short and they were like children as they ran to the lobby elevator.  
  
The doormen had shot them a glance of disgust as they waited for the elevator, Sara trying desperately to straighten her hair and smooth her dress. Michael smiled at her attempts, gripping her hand in his, arousal surging from his toes to his heart. The elevator had announced it’s arrival with a ding and they had laughed at the arrogant doormen as they rushed through the doors. The second the doors closed Michael was on her once again. He needed to touch her, anywhere, he just needed.  
  
Hot breath escaped her lips as Michael pressed her hard against the wall, dipping his head slightly to deepen the kiss. She smiled into his mouth, a sexy laugh following as his hands roamed her face and tangled themselves in her hair. His hands had roamed down her back and gripped at her behind, a sensation that caused Sara to grip into his shoulders. Michael loved what she did to him and what he did to her. His tongue danced in and out of her mouth as he grinned at her reaction.  
  
And then the elevator had chimed once more, a soft yellow glow illuminating the floor number they were on. Michael pulled away from Sara, a frustrated growl escaping his throat as the doors opened. Sara giggled out loud as they tumbled from the elevator into the corridor. Michael chuckled and followed her close, catching her by the hips when she threatened to fall. Hurriedly she raked around her purse for her keys as they stopped outside a white door with brass numbers.  
  
Michael pressed into her from behind, wrapping his strong arms around her tiny waist and kissing the back of her neck. Sara exhaled hard as she pushed the key into the lock, fiddling furiously with it, eyes clenched tightly shut. Michael proceeded to tease her further when he moved his lips to place kisses behind her ear, covering her hand with his and turning the key.  
  
The door swung open with a force, bouncing off of a doorstop fixed to the floor behind it. Michael reached out a strong hand to stop it hitting them as he turned Sara to face him with the other. He walked them back into the apartment, slamming the door behind them, lips still locked in everlasting passion. Sara’s purse fell from her hand and landed with a dull thud at their feet. Her keys followed suit, being thrown onto the counter top as they stumbled past.  
  
Sara gripped Michael’s face tightly, never letting him break the kiss for a single second. Michael took her by the hips and swung her into the pale cream wall of her apartment. A photograph nearby rattled off its hook and slid to the floor. Sara’s fingers set to work on Michael’s shirt buttons, each on falling through its designated hole on her command. She tugged playfully at the bottom, pulling it from his pants.  
  
Michael let out a gasp as she touched his chest. Her hands were cool from the outside and she felt like ice on his skin. He broke off the kiss and he watched as she pushed her flattened palms over his nipples and up over his shoulders, sending the unneeded garment to the floor. The hair on the back of his neck stood on end and his stomach fell away from him.  
  
Sara looked into his eyes. They were glazed over with need and tiny beads of sweat had formed above his brow. She leant forward and laid soft kisses across his neck with slightly swollen lips. Michael’s eyes flickered shut and he clenched his jaw, a powerful hand diving into her red hair and gripping a handful of hair loosely. Michael had never felt like this before. From the moment he laid eyes on Sara he had dreamed of this moment, his obvious want waking him each and every night.  
  
Sara pulled her head back to catch the look of pleasure upon his face. She caught her bottom lip in her teeth and playfully pushed on his chest leading him backwards with her advances. His eyes flew open when they hit a couch side table; an ornate table lamp rocking side to side before bouncing on the carpet with unnoticed bump. Michael laced his fingers in Sara’s, pulling her closer to him and their bodies connected with an energy so intense Sara thought she might explode.  
  
His powerful hands worked at the zip on the back of her dress, pulling it down agonisingly slowly. Sara’s hands were equally as busy with Michael’s chrome buckled belt. She yanked on it impatiently, releasing it from its belt loop prison and dropping it to the floor beside them in a victorious manner. Michael laughed at her, his eyes alight with lust and he panted frantically through his open mouthed smile. Sara gave him a seductive smile, gripped his broad shoulders and pulled them both back onto the couch.  
  
Michael braced himself above Sara as they fell, crawling up her body, one knee placed precariously between her thighs while the other rested on the floor. He was the first to speak since they had got into the cab.  
  
“This…” he left velvety kisses on her skin as he pulled her loosened dress downwards to expose her milky skin. “…has to go” he gripped at the edges of the black material and forcefully pushed it down over her body. His kisses were torturous, lingering and smooth on her skin. A burning between Sara’s thighs sparked to life when he rolled his blistering tongue across her abdomen, her chest heaving for breath.  
  
Michael threw the dress over the back of the couch and continued his assault down her body. Sara writhed under his touch, squirming as his licked and kissed his way over her body. She needed this so badly. She needed him. Her lacy black underwear did nothing to hide her provocation and her nipples stood to full attention as his hands brushed lightly over them.  
  
Michael’s erection strained within its boxer shaped cell when she released a shrill of erotic noises. Her face was flushed and her hair had begun to stick to her face in places. Her hands gripped at the couch cushion as Michael continued down her godly body, drinking in her every curve, line and crevice. He could smell her need, taste it on her skin. She tasted like salt and vanilla.  
  
He slid back up her body to recapture her mouth in another heated kiss. Tongues danced around the fire of their souls and Michael groaned low in his throat as Sara reached out to rub her hands across his straining manhood. With one hand he reached between them and unbuttoned his pants, returning it swiftly to brush damp tendrils of hair from her gorgeous features.  
  
Sara’s hands skimmed around his waist, dragging light fingernails over the already alive skin. Her hands brushed through the line of hair he had creeping up from his boxers and slithered lower, hooking her fingers into the elasticised waistband. Michael ended their kiss and pushed his forehead into the couch when Sara took him in her hand.   
  
“Sara…” he moaned into her shoulder, his sticky hot breath leaving a damp residue there. His finger’s dug into the edge of the couch and he gulped hard, his voice turning husky in her ear. “I need you,” he breathed, muscular arms shaking to hold his weight. Sara gently massaged him between them, twisting her hand with each stroke, sending his body closer to ecstasy and blurring his vision.  
  
Michael felt a shudder creeping up on his body and he darted out to grip Sara’s hand, giving it a slight squeeze before pulling them both from his boxers. “You have to stop,” he gasped between breaths, lifting his head so he could see her eyes once more. Her face was flushed with passion and want and she used her long slender legs to push his pants the rest of the way over his legs. Michael kicked them off and they landed, covering the fallen lamp on the floor.  
  
Sara pulled his head to hers, angrily kissing his lips with everything she had. Michael interlocked their fingers and raised her arms above her head where they dangled lazily over the couch arm. Trailing his warm, painful touch feather lightly down her body he stopped briefly to release her heaving breasts from her bra and marvelled at her rosy pink nipples prickling to attention under his hot breaths. He looped his fingers into the low riding waistline of her black lace French knickers. His mouth followed, leaving her aching breasts moist from his attention, and a smile across her face as his pulled the offended material down to reveal her already sopping heat.  
  
His ragged breathing brought her skin to life, flowing like the ocean’s waves across her sensitive skin. Michael planted a soft, lingering kiss to her deep red mound before following his route down her smooth legs. With her underwear well and truly out of sight across the apartment, he took her delicately small feet in his hands and proceeded to lay down his law up her inner thighs. Sara shuddered beneath his grip, clawing for his shoulders.  
  
“I need it now, Michael,” she begged through wet, quivering lips. Michael gazed into her eyes and saw her delight at his consideration of every part of her body. He made her hot and he made her want like she never had before. He was a slow and torturous lover and fire ignited all over her being. She needed him inside of her right now.  
  
  
  
Stripping himself of his last barriers, Michael sent his boxers over the back of the couch to join her dress in a heap on the floor. Tearing at a silver foil package, Sara rolled a condom over his length, Michael gritting his teeth to hold his release in as she did so. He positioned himself at her entrance, pushing his tip between her folds, a move agonising for both of them.  
  
Sara chewed on her bottom lip and squirmed beneath him. Her eyes opened and met his, his azure stare burning into her soul. Their eyes locked as he pushed into her, her tender hands gripping his biceps and her head falling backwards into the couch cushions as she arched into him. Michael was lost in her as she fell into him, her mouth open with desire, and her body reacting to his every thrust.  
  
Michael slowly withdrew from her and entered again, deliberately slow and excruciating. Her core began to tighten around him and her slick juices began to flow even more than before as her orgasm approached. Together they moaned into each other’s shoulders as they made love, Michael savouring every reaction she gave him and Sara floating ever closer to oblivion.  
  
Like two trains colliding they came together, Michael releasing a guttural gasp of pleasure as Sara dug her fingernails into his arms, silencing her screams with a long, amorous kiss.

 


	6. The Morning After

Sara’s head pounded, the thumping against her temple echoing in her ears. She pressed her eyes closed even tighter as the day’s dawn spilled through her windows and across her face. She held up a lazy hand to stop its track to her face and blinked her eyes open groggily. The soft snoring of a content man escaped Michael’s throat on the floor beside her as she recalled the previous night. She smiled at him as she sat up on the edge of the couch.  
  
She took a crumpled throw from the back of the sofa and wrapped it around herself protectively. Michael did not stir, laying face down and naked on her expensive carpet, resting his head on a stray cushion. She was sure it had found its way there before he had but she couldn’t be sure. The night before was a blur, a night of passion between two people and now the morning after loomed on the horizon.  
  
Sara whipped her head up to look at the clock, noticing a picture that once hung on her wall was missing. She frowned slightly before remembering how it had ended up in its final resting place behind her telephone table. Her skin tingled under the throw as she recalled Michael’s hands on her hips and his lips on her skin. She bent down, picked up the photograph and reset it back on its hook before padding silently towards her bathroom.  
  
It was only just 6AM and Sara did not have work today. She locked the door behind her as she entered and let the throw fall to the black and white tiled flooring. She took her toothbrush in one hand, squeezed a generous helping of toothpaste onto its bristles with the other and cleaned her teeth. Rinsing her mouth she gazed at her reflection in the mirror before her. Her lips were reddened and pleasantly sore from the night before and her hair had lost its natural zest, tumbling over her shoulders in a tangled mess.  
  
Reaching into the cubicle she turned the shower on. Steam filled the small room as she stepped in, gasping at the heat as she shuffled under the torrent of water. It felt good, like Michael’s touch on her skin, and she rested her forehead against the coolness of the tiles as the water beat down on her back. She blew a few stray droplets of water from her lips as she exhaled, eyes blinking slowly through the thick condensation.  
  
Grabbing a soft, white towel she wrapped it around herself and stepped from the shower unit, the tap squeaking as she turned it off. Her head still pounded, every noise was exaggerated to the extreme. She unlocked the bathroom door, the lock screeching from its cavern in the doorframe, and silently pulled the door free from the frame. She glanced down the hall for any sign Michael was awake but her ears were met with his still soft snoring.  
  
Across the hall was her bedroom. Her sanctuary. The walls were deep red in colour and her silky bed sheets were crisp and new, untouched by them the night before. Heavy tab top curtains with a golden trim shut out the offending sunlight as it crept over the city below. Silently Sara dressed and brushed the knots from her hair, it springing back into tighter curls now it was wet.   
  
Leaving her bedroom she pulled the door closed behind her and tip toed back into the lounge. She glanced around the room. It was wrecked. Her purse lay close to the door, its contents spilling out into view. Her keys were in a heap next to the kettle, obviously their final resting place from a long slide across the counter. Sara smiled as she spied Michael’s boxers covering her dress behind the couch, the pile abstractly neat and out of view.  
  
The rest of their clothes were everywhere. His pants were on the floor by the edge of the couch and as Sara bent to retrieve them a hidden lamp appeared from under them. She inspected it for breaks and replaced it carefully back on its table. At Michael’s feet was her underwear, sprawled out as if ironed to the carpet. Two messy pairs of shoes littered the kitchen floor, laces still tied where they had been wrenched off in a hurry.  
  
Back towards the fallen photo was Michael’s shirt. Sara picked it up and held it to her face, inhaling his manly scent. She closed her eyes briefly, flashes of last night etched onto her eyelids. Her daydream was interrupted by a small grunt by the couch. Sara turned to see Michael stirring, his face crinkling in the sun as it moved onto his face. Sara took another cushion from the couch and promptly dropped it onto his behind, causing him to jolt awake.  
  
On instinct he pulled a heavy arm around to wipe his mouth, inspecting his hand with squinted eyes afterwards. His mouth felt dry and tasted like bear and vanilla. His lips smacked together a few times, coaxing the saliva from its glands. Michael pushed his self up on his arms, as if doing a press up, and scanned the room. Sara was busily collecting garments and sorting them into piles according to ownership.  
  
“Good Morning,” he beamed, propping his head up with one hand while the other coyly covered his manhood with the cushion. He was not shy of his body but Sara seemed to be looking anywhere but at him. She gave him a shy smile and tossed his boxers to him.  
  
“You have work,” she informed him as he pulled his boxers on and took the time to stretch his entire body. “So you have to go home and change” she continued to buzz around the apartment, pulling the drapes open as she passed them. “Or people will know”. Michael pulled on his somewhat creased pants and buckled his belt after tucking in his crimson shirt that had also found its way onto his back.  
  
Michael caught her in his arms as she scurried past him. She froze under his touch, her eyes taking a prolonged blink as her eyes rolled in her head. His touch was gentle but firm and he pulled her to him, taking the lacy bra from her hands and throwing it to the couch behind him. “Who will know?” he teased, brushing strands of red behind her ear.  
  
Sara leant into his touch, defeated, and without thinking, brought her hands to rest on his chest. He cupped her face in his hands and made her look directly at him. Into him. “Do you regret last night?” he quizzed, a worried look on his face. Sara laid her smaller hand over his on her cheek and sighed. Her pause was too long and Michael broke contact, slipping on his shoes from the kitchen.  
  
“I only remember a few parts,” she admitted, closing up behind him as he reached the door. “We were drunk and…”  
  
“It doesn’t change what happened,” he cut her off. “It doesn’t change how I feel right now” his steely stare bore into her, her dark hazel depths watching his face lovingly. He was right. What happened last night was incredible, mind blowing even. Michael had made her feel wanted and given her what she needed. She took a step towards him, closing the gap between them even further.  
  
Electricity danced between their bodies and Michael licked his lips nervously as hers hovered above them. Her mind told her she was rushing. She had only known him for a few days and they hadn’t even gone on a date yet. But her heart told her that the man stood before her, caressing her cheeks with his talented hands was the one. The man she had waited for her entire life. Her love at first sight.   
  
Without another word she connected their lips, rekindling the fire within. She brought her hands to his face, rubbing his cheeks with her thumbs before snaking them to his neck and breaking the kiss. Michael inhaled hard and rested his forehead against hers. “I have to go,” he told her sadly, neither of them wanting to leave each other’s embrace. She nodded sorrowfully as he reached behind them and turned the door handle to the outside world.  
  
Sara slid her arms from around his neck and rested them by her sides, her clammy hands tingling with the sensations he left on her skin. Michael stole one last quick kiss, a smile crossing both their lips as he did. “Go!” she laughed at him as he jogged off down the hallway towards the elevator.   
  
Michael turned just after stepping into the elevator and pressed his flat hand to his lips. Throwing it out in her direction as he blew her another farewell kiss, Sara playfully caught the air with her hand as the steel doors enclosed him from her view. Sara simply smiled and walked back into her apartment.

 

 


	7. Champagne and Cappaccino

Two days later Sara stabbed at her salad as she listened to Meredith’s rant about Derek. Apparently he had called her, begging for her to come home to him. Sara nodded her head a few times and munched on her leafy meal. Looking like she was listening was far more important than acting like she wasn’t. As her tirade came to an end, silence fell between them as Meredith began tucking into her cooling lunch.  
  
“So,” she slid a full fork into her mouth before pulling it free minus its load. “Where did you go the other night?” She smiled, eyes widening with anticipation. Sara wiped her smile with a napkin and rested it back on her lap.  
  
“Home,” her smile let on more than she liked and she busily stuffed more food into her mouth to hide it.  
  
“Alone?” her friend teased, leaning forward on the table, sipping a glass of water. Sara briefly caught her gaze but dropped her eyes quickly as she recalled that night, beaming from ear to ear. “You weren’t alone were you?” Meredith deduced.  
  
Sara coughed and they both laughed. “How about you?” Sara tried desperately to change the subject, resting her fork on a now empty plate. Meredith sat back in her chair and pulled a grimaced face, sighing.  
  
“He wasn’t Derek,” she said forlornly, resting her fork on its plate too, suddenly not hungry. Sara reached a hand across the table and took her friends hand in hers. Meredith looked into her eyes and fought back burning tears that threatened to roll down her cheeks.   
  
“Call him. Let him explain,” Sara have suggested, half ordered. Meredith’s face flashed with “what ifs” that Sara could clearly see. Sara handed her a tissue from her bag and she wiped her eyes, sniffing slightly to clear her voice and nose. “Trust me, I’m a doctor,” she joked finally and they both chuckled out loud.  
  
Meredith gave her a smile of thanks before resuming her meal before her. Without taking her eyes from her meal she asked, “Was he good?” before showing Sara a jovial grin. Sara shot her a look of annoyance but remained silent. The sound of a man clearing his throat at her 2 o’clock made Sara look, here body reacting instantly to his sight.  
  
She continued to glare into his beautiful eyes across the restaurant, blushing under his ocean deep stare. He sat with his legs crossed over one another, his powerful frame resting lazily in the chair. A folded newspaper was held in one hand and a half empty cappuccino sat in front of him. A blue shirt complimented his beige suit, and a neatly completed tie rested languidly on his chest.  
  
Without taking his eyes from hers her motioned for the waiter. The man scurried towards him and asked him for his order. Sara watched as he motioned for the waiter to come closer, whispering into his ear and pointing a finger towards Sara. The waiter’s head whipped around to follow his finger and Sara gasped as she swung her head back around.  
  
Her heart pounded in her chest and her cheeks flushed with pink. Meredith looked up from her meal and frowned. “Are you ok Sara?” she asked but before she could answer the waiter came up beside her and placed a pair of fine crystal champagne glasses before them.   
  
“From the gentlemen over there,” his flat hand extended in Michael’s direction. Meredith and Sara both looked towards him. He smiled at them, raised his cappuccino mug in a toast and pressed it to his lips, his eyes never leaving Sara’s over the rim of the beverage. Again, she tingled all over and could feel his eyes on her as she turned back to thank the waiter.  
  
Meredith gasped in delight and toasted Michael back with her champagne. He smiled at her friendly before returning to his newspaper, slyly keeping an eye on Sara over its rolled edges. Her smile was divine, gracing her features in a heavenly manner.  
  
“How wonderful!” Meredith expressed, taking a sip of the bubbly liquid. “Mmmmm,” her eyes closed in pleasure. “This is good,” she pointed to the glass in her hand. “You must try some,” she picked up Sara’s glass and handed it to her. Sara placed the glass back on the soft, white tablecloth and excused herself from the conversation, smiling at her friend in reassurance as she made her way to the back of the restaurant.  
  
Michael watched her go, taking another long drink from his mug. Sara was heading towards the back of the restaurant when he placed his newspaper flat on the table and rose himself. He smoothed his tie to his abdomen, holding it there as he made his way through the crowded tables towards the toilets.  
  
Sara burst through the doors into the empty toilet foyer. To her left was a pink door with a skirted stickman decorating a brass fixture. To her right was a blue door, the stickman on that one simply addressing the world seemingly naked. The heavy door behind her creaked open and Sara smelt his masculine scent on the gust of blown in air.  
  
“Dr. Tancredi,” he addressed her, his voice deep and full of happiness. She turned to him with a seductive smile.  
  
“Michael,” she took a step towards him, lunging into his arms for a kiss. His arms encircled her as their eyes closed and their lips met. It was long and romantic and there was no tension from either one of them. She tasted sweet in his mouth, a perfect compliment to his cappuccino tang. Michael’s eyes fluttered open and he sucked in a welcome breath through gritted teeth. Sara smiled up at him, loving the way she made him feel.  
  
Michael’s hands ran down her arms and took hers in his. She gripped at his fingers as he ran his thumbs over her knuckles. “Come out with me,” he asked her “Tonight”.  
  
“Are you asking me on a date?” she enquired, finding the whole situation a little humorous. He laughed a husky laugh back at her.  
  
“I know we are doing this all in the wrong order,” he beamed. Sara nodded a smile to him. She wasn’t going to disagree there. “But I want to get to know you more” Sara placed her hand over her mouth to hide her wry smile. He cocked his head at her reaction and asked her, “What?”   
  
“You’ve seen me naked Michael,” she told him without humiliation. Michael smirked as images flashed before his eyes. Images that were imprinted on his mind and invaded his every dream.   
  
“True,” he agreed with a laugh. “Shall we say I’ll pick you up at 8?” he released her hands from his grip, reaching to pull down the door handle behind them.  
  
Sara wrapped her arms around herself, not knowing what to do with her now cooler hands. She nodded as he pulled the door open where bustling kitchen sounds filled the tiny lobby. “At 8,” she repeated with a smile. He flashed her one more toothy grin before letting the door close behind him, leaving her feeling warm from his touch and melted by his charm.

 


	8. The Date

Michael rubbed his hands together nervously as he stepped from the elevator. Approaching the pearly white door, her reached out a clenched fist to tap it twice. A short time later the door swung open and his jaw dropped as he drew in a desperate breath.   
  
Sara stood before him in a long red dress that shimmered to a plum colour in the light. It was strapless, hugging her body perfectly, contouring every outline, accentuating her breasts awesomely. By her thigh it divided to the floor, exposing her long, smooth creamy skin to his widened eyes. He followed her legs to the floor dry mouthed and heart racing. Her delicate feet were cradled in some strappy plum heels, buckled at her fine ankles.  
  
His hungry peruse of her body continued back up to her rounded face, brushed gracefully with make up. Her hair was half up and half down, pinned into a twisted curl behind her head, a wavy bunch of curls splashing her bare shoulders. She also clutched a small black purse.  
  
“Wow,” was all he could muster, suddenly feeling underdressed. He was dressed in a black single-breasted dinner suit, his crisp white shirt cuffs peeking from the sleeves. Silver cufflinks pulled the edges together and a single black button closed the jacket at the front. Satin lapels matched a bowtie fastened around his neck and the shirt collar tips pointed out over its bows.  
  
“Wow yourself,” she smiled, drinking in his presence with her eyes. She stepped towards him in the hall, the door closing behind her with a click. “Shall we?” she shook him from his sordid daydream. Blushing Michael held out his arm, bent at the elbow. Sara laced her fingers around his strong arms, the muscles rippling beneath her manicured fingertips as they made their way to his car.  
  
His car was big, silver and executive. Sara sunk into the cream leather interior as if it was made to fit her and her hands rested over one another on her lap. Michael peeled his eyes off the road for a second to glance at her one more time. “You look beautiful Sara,” he told her, causing her to blush and turn away from him to hide it. He smiled and returned his eyes to the road.  
  
“Thank you Michael,” she smirked out of the window. The streetlights flashed by as they drove to the restaurant. Michael had made reservations almost out of town at a restaurant called Zelos, an expensive establishment if ever Sara had seen one.   
  
As they drove up to the door a short man wearing a red waistcoat and pristine white gloves opened Sara’s door. Michael exited his side, pulling his shirt down his arms and he handed his keys to another man clad in red. He extended a sensitive hand to her with a smile and she took it willingly, allow him to pull her from the car. A third man gave Michael a small ticket and his car was driven from view into an underground garage on the premises.  
  
Sara’s eyes danced as she took in the restaurant. Two huge marble columns surrounded two heavy swing doors. They were made of glass, the name of the restaurant etched into it in an italic calligraphy. An average sized man dressed in a white suit stood to one side of them, pulling the weighty doors open for people arriving and leaving the restaurant. As the approached him, he smiled, welcomed them in a fine Italian accent and held the door open for them.  
  
“Michael, this is too much,” Sara told him as they entered the lobby. It took her breath away. The walls were draped in red woven silks that hung in arches from the high domed ceiling. Soft Italian music invaded her ears and the spongy burgundy carpet muffled her footsteps. Michael squeezed her hand that rested over his arm as they approached another man in a white suit.  
  
“Reservation for two for 8,” he told the man who ran a long, bony finger down a page in a thick, leather bound book. The man nodded to Michael and smiled at Sara. He grabbed two menus from a rack next to him and motioned for them to follow him. Around them couples laughed and chatted happily while waiters buzzed to and fro collecting plates and dispensing lavish meals.  
  
Michael pulled Sara’s chair out from under the table and she sat. He helped her push it under the table before taking his own seat opposite her. Still in shock Sara smiled at him across the table, their eyes swimming in each other’s. “Michael…” she began but he cut her off.  
  
“I know,” he said reading her mind and picking up his menu. “But you’re worth it” a smile shining over his menu causing her to flush under his gaze again. Sara picked up her own menu and they muttered between themselves, deciding what to have to eat. Once they had decided and the waiter had scampered off to the kitchen, they leant forward on the table closer to each other.  
  
“So let’s get to know each other a little more,” she beamed at him, mimicking his words from lunch. Michael let out a manly chuckle, the corners of his eyes pinching together as he did so. “I don’t even know your surname,” she informed him through an open mouthed grin that stole the breath from Michael’s chest. He coughed into a balled fist and clapped his hands together.  
  
“Well, my name is Michael,” he chimed while she took a sip of her sparkling champagne that had arrived for them.   
  
“Really?” she mocked, swallowing the bubbles as they danced on her tongue.  
  
“I am an engineer, one brother, twenty nine years old,” he took a breath, filling his lungs to the brim. He picked up his champagne glass. “Single,” he added, placing it to his lips with a smile. Sara loved his playful banter. He was charming and funny, smart and gorgeous and she couldn’t stop thinking about him. She studied his hands as they moved, knowing their capabilities and dexterity. “Your turn,” he smirked.  
  
Sara smacked her lips together making an audible clap in her mouth. “Sara Tancredi, MD,” she paused proudly as he raised his eyebrows in fake surprise. “No siblings, twenty five years old,” she paused again as their meals arrived, the plates clinking with their glasses on the table. Michael thanked the waiter without taking his eyes from Sara’s for a second. “Single,” she finally said, copying his attempt at flirting.  
  
Michael’s heart flurried in his chest sending blood surging around his mannish bulk. He watched her delicately placed mouth as she ate and imagined kissing her there, tasting the remnants of her meal. They chatted some more over little trivial things. Sara explained that she was the governor’s daughter and hoped it didn’t affect his judgement of her. It didn’t and Michael shrugged it off, reassuring her that he would still be sitting where he was were she the daughter of a murderer.  
  
“I don’t judge people by their family’s actions,” he confessed, resting his knife and fork neatly together on his empty plate. “My father was an abusive drunk who ran out of my brother an I before I was even born”  
  
Sara felt a pang in her heart. He seemed fine but she knew it was a front, a façade to deter her from apologising for his father or asking more painful questions. An uncomfortable silence fell between them and neither spoke. Finally Sara leant across the table and took his hand in her, wrapping them in warmness. His eyes met hers as they had so many times and he smiled weakly, squeezing her hands in a silent thank you.  
  
“Let’s get dessert at my place,” she winked, licking her lips seductively. Michael sprang to life, tearing one hand from the bundle on the table and waving a finger in the air for a waiter.  
  
“Check please!” he bellowed as Sara giggled.

 


	9. Dessert

Michael threw his jacket over the back of Sara’s couch and took a seat on it. Sara was clattering with something in the kitchenette beside him but he had been told to wait here and not look. His body surged with excitement and he rubbed his flat palms over his expensive suit pants, drying them crudely. Sara darted from the kitchen, a wicked grin on her face.  
  
“Wait there,” she pointed at him and like a puppy he obeyed. That was what Michael was, her puppy. He would do anything for her and expect little in return. She was his master and he was her cute, obedient puppy dog. He smiled anxiously, awaiting her return.  
  
His grin widened when a thin scrap of silky material covered his eyes and was tied behind his head. “Do I even want to know why you have this?” he teased. Sara leant over the back of her couch, running her hands down his chest as she went and rested her mouth by his ear.  
  
“It’s best you don’t talk,” she breathed hotly into his ear before retracting her touch. Michael’s skin came to life, shivering beneath her contact. His breath hitched in his throat and his hands became clammy again as they gripped the edge of her couch cushions.  
  
The blindfold brought his senses to life. By shutting off one Sara had awakened the others to her every move. He heard her enter the kitchen, following the sound of her heels on the floor with his head. His heart beat rapidly in his chest, the blood pumping beneath his skin warming his already searing body. The sound of her heels vanished shortly after a clatter on the tiled floor and her smell drifted past him.  
  
She smelled like vanilla again, angelic and pure. She paused in front of him to place something on the glass-topped coffee table with a chink, telling Michael it was glass, possibly a bowl. Sara was silent as she knelt between his legs, pulling the hem of his shirt from his smart pants before taking the cufflinks from his sleeves.  
  
“Take off your shirt,” she commanded him. “I’ll be right back” Michael gulped a dry lump down his throat and fumbled with the buttons on his shirt. Impatiently he yanked his arms from the sleeves and tore it of his back, his skin chilling in the apartment air giving him goose bumps all over his body. Sara was gone for what seemed like an eternity and he laid his head back, trying to peek through the bottom of the blindfold. A playful smack to the back on his shaven head made him groan aloud with impatience.  
  
“Naughty boy,” Sara whispered into his ear, her face inches from is own. He could feel her body heat radiating onto him and knew she had changed into something a little more revealing. Her smell lingered on his sense and he opened his mouth marginally to kiss her, bringing his hand to her face. “Uh uh,” she mischievously cooed as she caught his hand mid way, dropping it back onto the couch with a springing thud.  
  
“Sara…” he hissed though gritted teeth as she scratched light circles over his chest and down to his belt.  
  
“Was this an expensive suit?” she asked childishly whilst unbuckling his belt. Michael’s leg twitched and he swallowed another obstruction in his mouth. She set him on fire. Her hands on his skin, the way she whispered into his ear with utter allure, her words as sublime as her gorgeous presence. Michael had very little self-control and she was severely testing his boundaries with her onslaught.  
  
“Uh…” he stuttered breathing quickly, his brow wrinkling with irrelevant thought. Sara smiled a wicked smile, licking her lips with the tip of her tongue when she pulled his belt from the belt loops without remorse for the burning it left across his waist from friction. “It was, yeah,” he replied in a hurry.  
  
“Then I should be really careful with this,” Sara told him, moving away from his chest to grab at something on the table. Michael frowned as he strained to hear her movements. The sound of liquid moving against metal filled his ears and a hollow pop followed. A mixture of welcomed fear and arousal flooded his being and Michael went rigid with apprehension.  
  
A hissing shattered the quite room followed by a squirting noise that left an ice cold feeling on his chest. He gasped loudly as the whipped cream sprayed onto his chest and instantly began to melt with his extreme body heat. Sara let out a giggle as she watched his reaction, his body bending and twisting to escape the cold.  
  
Sara held Michael’s wrists pinning them to the couch and watched her work dissolve. As the cream melted it began dripping down his body, rolling over his chiselled abdomen to his waist. Before it reached his suit pants Sara’s tongue darted out and caught it, retracing its route back up his chest were she lapped up the rest of the cream like a kitten, still pinning him to the couch.  
  
His hand’s balled into white fists and his jaw twitched as it clenched. He didn’t know how long he could take her sordid foreplay before he lost all control. Guttural moans escaped from low in his chest and her lips vibrated at his sounds. Finishing the cream, she released his wrists and pulled away from his body. Michael inhaled hard, guiding a hand to his forehead to wipe away small droplet of perspiration that had begun to form there.  
  
“Hmmmm…” He laughed with a hum, rolling his head from side to side on the couch cushions as he slid further down them. “You are amazing,” he panted with a grin. Sara smiled to herself as she took an ice cube from the bowl she had set down on the table earlier.  
  
“It’s a gift,” she joked as she popped the block of ice into her mouth. Pressing her cool lips to his skin sent Michael into a frenzy and a rush of air entered his lungs as the ice cube fell from her open mouth onto his chest. His toes curled and he slammed his head into the back of the couch.   
  
“Oh god Sara,” he hissed. Sara smiled into him as she dipped her frozen tongue into his belly button before guiding the ice up his body, kissing it at various intervals.  
  
She clawed her way up his body, resting her hands on either side of his hips and hovered above him. Michael stiffened with eager longing for her body to be pressed against his. Tiny ribbons fell from her lingerie and tickled his chest, dabbing up the moisture she had left. She sucked the ice cube into her mouth and with dainty precision she brushed her lips against Michael’s.  
  
Sparks flew between their lips as his hot ones met her cold ones causing a tornado of emotion to wash over them. As he opened his mouth she pushed what was left of the ice cube into it followed by her arctic tongue. Hot met cold as their tongues danced around the ice cube. Michael smirked against her mouth, enjoying her game and the way she massaged the inside of his mouth, running her tongue across every surface.  
  
Pulling away a blast of cool air appeared between them as she retreated back to the table. Michael immediately missed her warmth but knew she would return. He crunched on the remnants of the ice cube, ready for her next round in their little playtime.  
  
Sara returned to her previous position above his body and froze, poised above his lips. His mouth dropped open slightly and he ran a tongue across his teeth, knowing she was there. The chocolate covered strawberry between her teeth half entered his mouth and he bit down with earnest. They both chewed on the fruit joyfully before Sara crushed her lips to his, tiring of her game.  
  
She smiled against his mouth as he chuckled a masculine growl, and a lazy hand came up to his head, peeling the blindfold over his eyes. It was game over and he blinked in the dim lighting. Sara fell further into his embrace and he wrapped his strong arms around her back, running them over the thin, fragile material of her lingerie.  
  
Michael lifted her off the couch, a shriek of excitement emerging from her mouth as he kicked his shoes off and carried her delicate frame down her hall to her bedroom. She clung to his neck, devouring his mouth with every kiss. He laid her down on the satin bed sheets and broke the kiss, stepping back to absorb her beauty.  
  
Sara pulled her knees up on the bed clothes, raising one arm behind her head to rest it on the pillow and running a finger below her bottom lip, her tongue darting out to lick at it seductively. Michael burned with desire as he popped the button on his pants and unzipped his fly, allowing them to drop to the floor. Sara writhed playfully in his sight, her tiny hands grabbing at the satin pillowcases.  
  
She pulled at a thin pink ribbon cord at the front of her lingerie and the black lattice material slide off her body exposing her naked serenity before him. Michael pushed his boxers to the floor, his engorged erection springing free as he stood back up. Sara moved to slide under her heavy downy bedspread and wiggled a finger at him, inviting him to join her. Michael didn’t need a second invite and dived under the covers next to her.  
  
His hands snaked over her flat stomach as he kissed her neck, tasting the elegance of her skin. He rolled her onto her side so they were facing each other, their souls almost touching through the fires of their passion. Michael’s tongue invaded her mouth and hers greeted his with equal yearning. She tasted like melted chocolate and sugar and Michael cupped her face with one hand to pull her closer, groaning into her mouth.  
  
Sara wiggled under his touch, arching her body against him, feeling his arousal brush her thigh. Michael pulled away from her, a pout forming on her face to which he smiled. “Hold that thought,” he chimed, leaning off the edge of the bed and pulling his wallet from his pants pocket. He unzipped a secret compartment and pulled a foiled packet free and waved it at Sara.  
  
She stretched out with a frustrated moan and grabbed his head roughly, pulling it to hers once more. Michael tore the packet open and sheathed himself before running a lusty hand down her torso and gripping her thigh.  
  
“Scofield,” he breathed against her threadlike lips as he dug his fingertips into her leg muscle, pulling it over his hip. She frowned, her eyes twitching but not opening as their tongues continued to dance. Her hand slid down to his neck and she tickled at his hair.  
  
“What?” she whispered hoarsely, the word nothing but a sounded syllable on a breath of air.  
  
“My surname,” he positioned himself at her dewy corridor, a move in their game that caused her body to melt away from him and become disorientated. “It’s Scofield,” he pushed his hips forward, entering her in a long, gradual thrust.  
  
Sara broke their haphazard kiss and raked at his neck, exhaling hard with a soft indulgent whine. Michael pushed his face into her welcoming bosom and pushed in and out of her with a painfully slow infatuation. His body shuddered each time he filled her, his release building up inside of him like a volcano. Sara rested her hand on his cheek and stared straight into his steely eyes, the moonlight creeping through her drapes and illuminating their act on the bed.  
  
With each gentle thrust Sara moaned as his pubic bone hit her bundle of nerves between her legs. Her toes went rigid and she buried her face in the hollow of his neck as she felt her climax near. Michael felt her tense under his hand and pushed into her one more time, stopping to feel her orgasmic cavern envelope his manhood. Sara’s face spoke volumes. Her eyes were fixed tightly closed and soft whimpers escaped on her gasps as he resumed his driving into her.  
  
Michael recaptured her mouth for a last wanton kiss before his ecstasy followed and he spilled his seed into the rubber that separated their mortal ghosts. They panted hard against each other and Sara hummed contently next to him, her eyes flickering open to meet his.  
  
“Thank you Michael Scofield,” she pressed a kiss to his lips one last time before curling up in his arms.

 

 


	10. The Storm

A flash in Sara’s eyes awoke her from her pleasant slumber. Michael’s long arm encircled her waist, pulling her to him in a protective manner, his head sunken low in the pillows, blowing soft, hot breathes across her neck. Another flash lit up the room as lightning struck the ground in the distance. A rumble in the heavens bellowed through the early morning.  
  
Sara slid out from under Michael’s arm and he stirred, rolling onto his back inhaling hard before flopping his hand upon his chest. She pulled a blanket from the floor and threw it around her shoulders, padding her way towards the terrace window. Stealing a glance at Michael her mouth turned up with a smile. He was sprawled out in her bed, the satin sheets laying low down his body leaving his entire belly to her gaze.  
  
Another low rumble caused her to look out of the window and into the storm. The door rattled in its runners as she pulled it open and stepped into the cool night air. The clouds were a black blue, the colour of bruises as they drifted heavily across the sky. The streets below were empty, and a streetlight flickered a few times before dying in the night. She lent on the white painted terrace railing, her muddled red hair falling free over them but never letting go of her scalp.  
  
Michael snorted as his eyes opened and his hands splayed out on the bed beside him. “Sara?” he mumbled before fixing his eyes to her figure on the balcony. Puzzled he threw the covers back and swung his legs over the edge of the bed. He gave his head a scratch before pushing his naked form from the bed and silently making his way to the terrace.  
  
“Sara?” he repeated from the door but she did not turn. Another flash of light and lightning hit the ground in the distance once more. Sara’s eyes lit up with delight.  
  
“Aren’t storms beautiful?” she asked him with amazement as a loud cracking sound filled the air. Michael smiled and padded up behind her, wrapping his arms around her smaller figure and resting his chin on her shoulder. A petite hand twisted free of the blanket and gripped his where they lay on her stomach. Sara’s head fell back onto his shoulder and he rocked them from side to side, another flash of lightning filling the sky.  
  
“Not as beautiful as you,” he exhaled into the back of her ear. Sara’s eyes rolled closed as one of his hands left her abdomen, pulled the blanket from her shoulder with tenderness and his lips met her skin for a searing kiss in the night’s air. Sara’s whole arm escaped its cotton confines and rubbed the back of his velvety scalp. One entire side of the blanket fell from around her body, exposing half of her nakedness.  
  
“Mmmmmm,” she groaned through a smile, extending the sound in exaggeration. Michael’s kisses were beyond tender and felt like butterfly wings brushing her delicate outer covering. He let out a chuckle at her sounds, loving what he did to her. The way she writhed beneath him, the way she teased his body with her touch, they way she bore into his soul with her eyes full of love and affection. Sara was something special.  
  
“Ever had sex outside?” he enquired as he brushed her curly auburn hair aside and began the same tender kissing on the other side of her neck. The movement meant his arm shifted slightly, the blanket falling all the way to the floor now leaving her naked to his eyes. His hands began roaming her body, sliding up her smooth skin towards her rounded breasts.  
  
“That’s depends…” her hands flew behind her to grip his sturdy thighs when her knees felt weak. Her breathing increased and her heartbeat followed closely behind.   
  
“On?” his hands found her breasts, his fingertips teasing her nipples into tiny rosy peaks. His tongue darted out to taste the skin on her back, mapping out the line of her sensitive spine. Sara shuddered, her hair standing on end all over her body as she tried desperately to find the words to answer. Above them, the thunder raged on.  
  
“Do you mean wild…passionate…” she gulped hard, forcing the words from her mouth as his solid erection brushed her behind. Michael’s hand crept up from her breasts and a finger playfully inched its way into her mouth. Sara sucked on it hungrily before he pulled it free; trailing an “S” shaped line back down her body where it came to rest in between her thighs.  
  
“Is outside sex anything but?” he teased, knowing she could not answer coherently. Michael studied Sara’s face as she arched from his body into his finger. Her eyes were squeezed tightly closed and her mouth hung open, her lips moist as she licked them. A murmur left her chest, a translation of a beg that Michael obeyed. With painful slowness her slid a digit into her slick heat.  
  
Sara gasped, the heat within her sending a rush through her body that scorched every surface it touched. She instinctively pushed down onto his finger, wanting to feel all of it at once. Michael withdrew his hand and re-entered her sopping core with two fingers this time. Sara turned slightly, catching Michael’s face in her hands for a long, wet kiss. He lent into her face, devouring her mouth with his while he placed a wide thumb to her sensitive bundle of nerves.  
  
Pulling away Sara tried to focus on his hand as it went to work, milking her of her juices. She gritted her teeth as her explosion built up inside her and she dug her slender fingertips into his forearms. Michael panted in her ear, his whole body tense with passionate anticipation.  
  
“Is that good?” he whispered into her ear, rolling her aching nub under his thumb. Sara’s face contorted and she bit on her bottom lip, the skin around her teeth turning white. A shaky nod was all she could muster as Michael increased his pace, diving in and out of her relentlessly. Sara’s breathing amplified with his every thrust, and her eyelids flashed with hot white as she came.  
  
Michael studied her face as she came back from oblivion, the ground falling away from her. Sweat rolled from her forehead and her hair stuck to the sides of her face in groups of two or three strands. The thunder roared above them and the heaven’s opened as it cracked. Warm rain poured down on them, soaking their already sticky bodies.   
  
Sara blinked up into the rain as it poured into her open mouth. She had hardly recovered from her elation when Michael hooked his slippery hand behind her knee and pulled her leg up into the air. Sara’s eyes twitched as the rain hit her eyelids and she turned to see Michael wearing a desperate open mouth grin. “Wild and passionate, right?” he asked over the sound of the rain as he pushed his latex clad member home.  
  
Sara let out a shout as he pounded into her fragile body with reckless abandon. Her voice quivered and Michael’s muscles clenched with every propulsion of his hips. He hissed through gritted teeth, his orgasm growling to be free like a rabid beast. The beast ploughed into Sara’s as she whimpered, her breasts bouncing furiously up and down, her hand holding Michael’s head to her face.  
  
They were staring into each other’s eyes as he slowed his pace, leaning forward to touch her tongue with his, their eyes finally closing from each other’s stare when their playful licking became a passionate kiss. Sara’s fraught gasps turned to a soft cry of pleasure and Michael smirked into her mouth.  
  
“You want more?” he teased, sliding himself in and out with excruciating bliss. Sara’s eyes flew open to meet his and she nodded eagerly, her glassy stare begging him for more.  
  
“Yes Michael,” she panted. “I want you hard and fast” Bursts of air escaped Michael’s lungs as he sped up his pace. Wanting nothing more then to please her again. One of his hands gripped at her thigh, its flesh turning to a purple under his fingernails. He breathed hard and fast, never wanting to miss the look on her face as she reached her climax again.  
  
“More,” she screamed in a high-pitched shrill. Michael pulled her too him hard, pushing the air from her lungs as he crushed her diaphragm. He let his talented hand drop lower and rubbed at her essence, willing her to come with him.  
  
“Oh God!” she squeaked as her vision blurred and her legs were taken from under her and she fell into an abyss of eternal paradise. Michael let out a masculine cry, his own perpetual glory hitting him hard and fast as he shot his ejaculate into the condom. Michael’s legs became weak and he tumbled to the ground, Sara falling onto his chest with a soggy bump.  
  
The rain ceased and the dawn broke over the horizon. Michael pulled the saturated blanket over them, covering their modesty and planted a faint kiss to her temple. His breath still laboured in his chest and his heart pounded against his ribs as it beat. He brushed a tacky strip of hair from her face and tucked it behind her ears.  
  
“Oh. My. God.” She accentuated between puffs of breath snuggling closer to him as the rain chilled her body on the terrace floor.  
  
“Your welcome,” Michael beamed, pulling her into his embrace.

 


	11. Tears and Fears

“Champagne guy?!” Meredith squealed with delight. “He was gorgeous!” her face scrunched in places as if she had just eaten the most divine of chocolates. Sara’s body racked with giggles as she tried to hide her laughter in her mug. They were at the restaurant again, the same time every day for lunch. Sara hadn’t seen Michael for a few days but they more then made up for it over the phone.  
  
“Yeah well, now you know,” Sara confessed to her friend mockingly. Meredith’s whole body buzzed at her friend’s revelation and she grinned goofily at Sara. Sara blushed and just hid her face in a magazine she had pulled from her bag to read. Meredith let out a loud schoolgirl cackle as Sara tried to hide.  
  
“In the rain and everything!” Meredith pressed on, fanning her cheeks with fake meaning. “That’s hot,” she told Sara with a last smile and a wink. Sara dropped the magazine from her face and a familiar tingle entered her body, her cheeks flushing with red for another reason other than her friends embarrassing onslaught. Behind her friend, directly in her line of sight Michael entered the restaurant, his eyes warm and his lips inviting as they curled into a smile.  
  
“Was he good?” Meredith coaxed, her eyes widening with anticipation of Sara’s answer. Sara blushed again, her cheeks turning to fire as Michael began to approach. She coughed aloud, a false deterrent to her friend who turned to inspect to person casting a shadow over their table. Meredith just burst into another fit of giggles as she turned back to Sara.  
  
Michael smirked at them before realising it was best not to ask. “Ladies,” he greeted them, his voice rolling from his mouth in a heavenly rapture.  
  
“Michael,” Sara said in a similar tone, her eyes shying from his as she smirked herself.  
  
“Michael,” Meredith repeated after her friend. She picked up her glass of water and drank quickly, feeling very lost in their unspoken connection. “I just need to go to the little doctor’s room,” she grinned at Sara as she slid off her chair and darted to the back of the restaurant.  
  
Michael dived into her welcoming seat and folded his hands together on the table before him. Sara tucked some spare hair behind her ears and she looked back into his blue grey orbs.   
  
“Hi,” he started nervously but playfully, flashing her a quick grin and running his eyes over her body. She sat before him in casual skin-tight jeans, a black v-necked chenille sweater covering three quarters of her finely haired arms over a baby pink blouse.  
  
She smiled her hello, flicking another tendril of hair from her eyes with a headshake. “How are you?” she leant forward onto the fresh white tablecloth, her hands millimetres from is own. Their heat radiated in the small gap like the steam from a hot water spring.  
  
“I’m good,” he inhaled. “ And you?” he raised his eyebrows at her, his eyes growing larger on his perfect face. He fidgeted under her stare and Sara’s face grew worried.  
  
“Are you?” she ignored his question and searched his face for an answer to hers. Her brow pulled together and her tenuous eyebrows met unexpectedly. Michael reached out and took her hands in his, fumbling with them in between his large paws. “Michael?” she asked, her voice shaking slightly with fear of the unknown.  
  
“I have to go away,” he confessed suddenly. Sara looked horrified when his face finally met hers again. “For work,” he tried to recover some sort of grip on the conversation. His insides felt like they were tearing apart, his heart at the centre of the carnage. Without realising it Sara’s hands gripped his harder as her stomach fell away with dread.  
  
“For how long?” her voice cracked with sadness. She hadn’t seen Michael for a few days because of his work and now it was ripping him from her life for god only knows how long. He took a hand from their collection on the table and pulled it across his brow roughly. Sara noted his attire had been crumpled, his shirt unbuttoned at the top and his tie had been wrenched awkwardly sideways. He had been thinking of how to tell her all day. “For how long?” she repeated a little louder, sounding angry.  
  
Michael pressed his eyes closed as he answered her. “A month.” His head fell forward and his shoulders hunched like he was trying to hide himself from her stare. Sara was petrified. Anything could happen in a month. Michael might meet someone else or he could become so engrossed in his work he would never want to see her again.   
  
“A month?” she laughed, a single tear rolling down her cheek. “When?” she didn’t want to know. Michael glanced behind his shoulder, a large black chauffer driven Bentley parked on the curb, its engine purring like an urban tiger.  
  
“Now,” he said full of remorse for hurting her so. She wrenched her hands from his and pushed them roughly into her hair, pulling it back off her face and holding it there, her entire being trying to contemplate life without him for a short time that felt like forever. Michael’s face, racked with sorrow, softened at her sight and he titled his head before standing and pulling her up into his arms.  
  
“Oh Sara,” he whispered as she began to sob against his chest. “I’ll be back,” he pulled back from her and cupped her face in his giant hands. His thumbs brushed her cheeks tenderly, wiping her salty tears away and melting her heart. She gripped his hands and pushed into them, needing to feel his touch for a long as possible. He angled her head towards his eyes and their burning gazes locked. “I promise,” he told her.  
  
Sara reached up and grabbed his face, pulling it to her own for a long, wilful kiss. Her lips quivered and Michael tasted her tears in his mouth. He consumed her mouth with his; wanting to kiss away all of her fears with his lavish lips.   
  
For a moment they weren’t in the restaurant and nine pairs of eyes were not staring at them with mourning. For a moment they were anywhere but there and they were in any circumstance but this. For a moment Sara had Michael in her arms and he had her in his, both grappling for each other’s yearning. For a moment they were on their first date, fine wines and luxurious food filling them hungrily before they filled each other. For a moment, they were one.  
  
Michael sniffed as he pulled away from her, shielding his own tears by looking away and out of the large glass walls of the restaurant. His driver stood obediently outside of his car, tapping his toes and checking his watch. “I have to go,” he rested his forehead to hers. She clung to the back of his neck and gave a small nod. Their lips met one more time before he turned and was gone.  
  
Sara hurriedly wiped her own face with her hands and collapsed back into her chair. Her eyes welled up again when she saw the black cat prowl off into the traffic, its black tinted windows forbidding her one last glimpse of the man she loved.  
  
Michael slammed his head into the back of the leather interior as the car pulled away, his clenched fists punching the seat on either side of his lap. He rolled his head to the side and his breath caught in his throat as a tear rolled down his cheek.

 


	12. Whiskey Stranger

Michael had been gone for two weeks and Sara was miserable. She missed his voice, his touch, his hot wordy whispers in her ear and the way they made love. She missed the way he made her feel safe in any situation and the way he made her heart dangerously skip a beat. They had talked on the telephone but between his workload and her shifts at the hospital, they had very little contact.  
  
On a rare occasion where she had time to herself, Sara sat at home, alone, draped in one of Michael’s shirts and curled up on her couch. Even her couch smelled of him and his shirt drowned her in a mixture of his after-shave and passionate sexual sweaty scents. She hugged her mug of cappuccino lovingly, its frothy residue and biter sweet taste reminding her way he tasted in her mouth.  
  
Sara was startled into reality by a sudden ringing that echoed through her silent apartment. She pushed herself off the couch and shuffled towards the telephone with reluctance. The sleeves of Michael’s shirt slid down her arms, hiding her hands in their crinkled tubes. Sara reached for the telephone and held it to her ear. “Hello?” she croaked expectantly, her throat dry from not talking.  
  
“Sara?”  
  
“Hi Mer,” her heart sank once again. It was not Michael. Meredith had hung around a little longer then she expected to because her boss forward slash boyfriend was still being a jerk apparently.  
  
“Sara come out with me,” she diving into her point, her voice pleading at the other end of the line. “Please? It’s my last night here and I don’t want to go without seeing you.” Sara knew she meant at the bar. The bar where she had first initiated her sexual relationship with Michael. She sighed at the thought of him again.  
  
“Please Sara. It will do you good to get out,” Meredith told her friend without the any sugaring of any pills. She knew Sara missed Michael but she also knew that a good drink and some lively fun would wake her up a little and stop her being such a dreary drag on society.  
  
“Ok,” Sara sighed, defeated. “Come get me, I’ll get ready.” Meredith screeched with glee down the phone, which made Sara laugh a little.  
  
“Give me fifteen minutes,” she said before a dial tone filled Sara’s ear. She smiled at the receiver as she placed it back on its cradle and headed for her bedroom to make herself look like Sara again.  
  
Thirty minutes later they were at the bar, the smoky atmosphere almost choking Sara as she stared into her glass. It rested on a green napkin, the thin red straw making the whole scenario look like a weak attempt at a Christmas decoration. She stirred her ice in the bottom, it rattling around the glass with a flat sound.  
  
“Is this seat taken?” a deep sedating voice vibrated through the air beside her. For a split second Sara thought she had heard Michael’s voice like liquid perfection in the air. She smiled kindly at the stranger and shook her head, taking a gulp of her drink. It tasted dead on her tongue but five whiskies do that for you.  
  
The stranger took his seat next to her and ordered her another of whatever she was drinking. Sara politely declined holding her glass up to him, showing she still had some left. He gave her a rejected smile before paying the barmen for his beer and fidgeting nervously on his stool.  
  
“So,” was his feeble attempt at conversation. “What’s a beautiful girl like you doing in a seedy bar like this?” he laughed, knowing his line was overused and under successful. Sara laughed weakly before casting her eyes to the crowded dance floor.  
  
“I’m here with a friend,” she squinted to find Meredith in the mass of moulding bodies and flashing lights. The stranger followed her gaze before turning back to her and shrugging. “His loss, right?” he commented, fishing for any clue she was here with someone else.  
  
“Her loss,” Sara corrected him. “I’m here with a colleague.” Sara found herself warming to the stranger’s advances, even though she knew it was wrong. She couldn’t seem to help herself. His blue eyes glowed under the cheap bar lighting and his broad frame mimicked Michael’s. He had short brown hair, styled into a spiky placement on his head and light stubble littered his jaw line. He wore a freshly ironed white shirt, a small tuft of chest hair erupting from where three buttons were undone and black pants.  
  
“What?” he caught her staring at him, taking in his every angle with her eyes. Sara shook herself from his allure and planted her eyes back on her drink. He smiled as she blushed.  
  
“Nothing. I’m sorry,” she apologised feebly.  
  
“It’s ok,” he larked before drinking down his beer once more. “I’d stare at me too,” he grinned into his bottle rim, raising his eyebrows playfully.  
  
Sara began to resign to his flirtation and smiled back into her own glass. Neither looked at one another as they laughed. He reminded Sara of Michael. His eyes held the same burning stare and his smell was similar. They both had a powerful frame and although this man had slightly rougher looking hands, Sara had no doubt they were as delicate as Michael’s.   
  
“I’m Sara” she turned to him and announced out of nowhere. She didn’t regret it and his smile told her he was glad she let him into her simplest of secrets. His smile even reminded her of Michael, curving at the edges of his thin mouth to form a passionate smirk, the look of a winner. He had won her name and it was a start.  
  
“That’s a pretty name,” he told her and ordered her a drink. This time she didn’t decline.  
  
Another five drinks later Sara and her pseudo Michael were enjoying a joke over the bar. They had been unsuccessfully trying to fling bar snacks into an empty glass they had positioned away from them both and their attempts were pathetic at best. Not one had entered the glass successfully and Sara’s hearty laugh filled the bar where they sat. It was so funny tears had formed in her eyes and she wiped them with a fine finger, trying not to smudge her eyeliner.  
  
“Ok, this time I got it,” he announced, his fingernail stinging slightly as it made contact with a salted peanut. Sara held her breath expectantly but her hopes were shattered when the peanut bounced off the edge of the glass and behind the bar.  
  
“Never mind,” Sara mocked, patting his shoulder. His laugh faltered slightly and his eyes fell onto her hand. It felt warm through his shirt, her tiny fingertips like little hot spots baking into his flesh. Sara heard he had stopped laughing and turned to face him, her eyes falling to where his focused on her hand. She pulled it from his muscles quickly, his eyes meeting hers before she had time to apologise.  
  
As if in slow motion he leaned forward aiming his mouth for hers. Sara looked down to his lips before pulling backwards, making him stop dead. His lips hovered above hers but neither moved. Sara whipped her head away and took a long gulp of her drink, finishing what was left in the glass. It stung her throat as a penance for her almost lusty encounter.  
  
“I’m sorry,” he apologised like the perfect gentleman sitting back on his stool. “The booze,” he held up his beer bottle to her and she smiled faintly. He smiled weakly back at her, his entire being feeling rejected to the core. “Stupid Lincoln,” he cursed himself, bashing his heavy black boot into the bar whilst gritting his teeth.

 


	13. Hath No Fury

Sara hugged her friend tight, rubbing her hands furiously over Meredith’s bony shoulders. She pulled back and planted a kiss to her cheek.  
  
“Call me when you get to Seattle,” she ordered before pulling her into another long embrace.  
  
“I will,” Meredith mumbled into her auburn hair obediently. “Take care without me,” she whispered. Sara was going to miss her friend. She was the one who had kept her sane while Michael was away. He had been gone for two weeks and one day now, and Sara figured she could last the rest of the time without Meredith.  
  
They parted, hands giving one final squeeze into each other as Meredith stepped into her cab. She pressed a childlike kiss to the rear window as it drove away from the restaurant where they had lunch every day. Sara laughed aloud at her friend’s antics before entering the restaurant for her lunch a smile still spread across her face.  
  
Sara took a seat at the back corner of the restaurant, her favourite place to sit. It was quite, private and a gorgeous black and white photograph of the area hung above the table. Its familiar white tablecloth was tucked in between the edge and the wall and the menu was newly laminated as it stood in a card fold before her. A waiter scuttled towards her and she ordered her usual with a glass of still water.  
  
The day was neither hot nor cold. The clouds floated around in the sky, shadowing the ground below them. It made for a very depressing morning as far as Sara thought. People bustled in the streets around the restaurant dressed in premature winter jackets and hats. The door to the restaurant chimed and Sara’s whiskey stranger walked in.  
  
He wore dark blue jeans, a fashionable tear just above the knee exposing some hairy flesh. His boots were heavy and had a thick tread on them, tied laces hidden beneath the edge of his jean legs. His hair was still spiky and he wore the same white shirt as the night before. Keys jingled in his brown leather jacket as he made his way to her. She greeted him with a smile and let him join her.  
  
“Hey Lincoln,” she said as if they had known each other forever. Last night, after they had almost kissed, he had apologised. He kept apologising until it made Sara annoyed at which point she had finally asked him what was wrong. She had seen this sort of destructive behaviour in Meredith many times before so she figured it was a woman. Veronica was her name. “How are things?” she quizzed, leaving her lunch as it arrived in front of her.  
  
He slid free from his jacket and fluidly dressed the back of his chair with it. He rubbed his cold hands together to generate some warmth as he answered, “Good,” he lied. Sara had suggested they meet for lunch so he could explain his situation in a more sober capacity and she could help him. She was a woman after all.  
  
“Did you tell her what I suggested?” Sara asked, picking her fork up from the table and stabbing into her salad. Lincoln laughed heartily.  
  
“As much of it as I could through the letterbox, yeah.” Sara felt strangely comfortable around Lincoln. He had the same kind eyes as Michael and like her; he was just trying to get by in the world. They shared a common denominator; they both missed their partners and were substitutes for the companionship they missed.  
  
“She’ll come around,” Sara assured him with a nod, filling her mouth with leaves. Lincoln didn’t look convinced but her sweet face and humanitarian spirit made him feel a tiny bit better. He wasn’t hungry so he didn’t order anything. Again, he laughed at her statement.  
  
“I’m sleeping in my car Sara,” he paused, a pang of pain hitting his heart. “I’m not so sure,” he solemnly added, rubbing his hands on his legs. His jeans were creased, a detail unnoticed by Sara until he had made his revelation about his sleeping arrangements. His face lit up with joy when his cell phone started to ring, the cheery ditty drawing attention to their table.  
  
He scrabbled for it in his jean pocket while he apologised. The display read “INCOMING CALL” and underneath in standard type was “Michael”. Lincoln apologised yet again and Sara smiled as he flipped the front of the phone open, pressing it to his ear.  
  
“Bro,” he bellowed into the mouthpiece but the line went dead. A puzzled look crept upon his face as he snapped the phone closed and placed it on the table. Sara lifted her head and her eyes fell on the device. Lincoln’s face was pulled into a contorted frown and he shrugged.  
  
“Is everything ok?” She asked taking a sip of her water.  
  
“Yeah,” he didn’t sound convinced. “Just my brother. Must have got cut off,” he dismissed. Lincoln was just about to send away the waiter that was casting a show over his shoulder when an almighty crack thundered through the restaurant. Lincoln flew into the wall with a thud, the picture above the table rattling free from its hook and landing with a smash on the ground.  
  
“Lincoln!” Sara shouted, pushing herself from her table and jumping back as he grunted against the wall. Her frightened eyes suddenly filled with a mixture of happiness and fear as she laid eyes on Michael. He was standing above Lincoln, rubbing his bruising hand with a tentative touch. His entire body shook with anger and he snorted through gritted teeth, his eyes dark with fury.  
  
“Michael!” she exclaimed and his eyes left the dazed bulk of man on the floor and met hers. His immediately softened to see her but she held her ground, mouth open with shock. “What the hell was that?” she demanded pointing a shaky finger at Lincoln who blinked hard against the wall confused by the impact. Her voice was full of rage and the restaurant suddenly became very quiet.  
  
“That,” he spat towards Lincoln, shaking his hand loosely in the air stopping only to inspect his purple knuckles. “Is my brother.”  
  
Sara’s eyes flickered between the two men. Michael stood in front of her, seething with rage and breathing hard in his chest. His eyes were tired and had lost the flair of life he once held. His face twitched as he sunk into a nearby chair, pulling his hand protectively to his body as he winced from the pain.  
  
Lincoln had begun to sit up from his lower abode, a giant hand reaching gently for his swollen eye. He cringed at the contact, his fingertip recoiling to his lap before he even applied pressure. He exhaled heavily, a groan escaping his lips. He looked up at Michael before turning to Sara; his head sinking lower with realisation of the situation.

 


	14. What Ifs and Right Nows

“Michael, wait!” Sara called after him desperately as she stumbled out of the restaurant doors. He took long determined strides down the street, his jacket flying open and the wind pressing his shirt to his chest. His tie flew over his shoulder and flailed beside his head.  
  
Sara got lost in the crowd as her tiny frame was bumped from side to side, slowing her progress. Her desperate calls went unheard as the wind pelted back into her face; her hair like horizontal twirls hanging in the air. She pushed past people and was met with disgusted cries, but she soldiered on.  
  
At a cross roads he stopped, bouncing on his toes and rubbing his thumbs against his fingers roughly in clenched fists. His jaw twitched and his teeth ached under the pressure he was exerting on them as he pressed them harder together. “Michael,” she called again, closing the gap. His eyes slid to the side of his head, noticing her advances before focusing forward when the lights changed.  
  
Sara stepped into the crossing crowd, half walking and half being carried by the sheer number of people. She fought against the torrent of people when Michael steered left and they carried her right. Shaking the hair from her face and she freed herself from their grasp, her eyes scanned the area for Michael. Panting hard with exertion she noticed his shaven head above the rest of the stack of domino like individuals as he turned a corner.  
  
Sara skipped into a jog as she headed for him. The corner bounced closer to her and she skidded to a stop when she collided with him. He took her by the shoulders, lowered his head to look into her eyes and she felt relieved for his touch. His eyes were full of sadness and betrayal and his voice was raspy and full of crushed emotion as he whispered, “Please stop following me.”  
  
Sara’s face felt hot as the tears welled in her eyes. They stung her skin as they flowed down her cheeks and she shook herself from his grasp, wiping her face with a sniff. Michael looked at her for what seemed like an eternity, thoughts raging through his mind and images of her and Lincoln flashing before his eyes. The way they laughed together, the way he looked at her and she looked at him. It made him sick to his stomach.  
  
“Michael, please,” she pleaded with a cracking voice as he turned to leave once more. He turned but didn’t stop, walking backwards down the street as he faced her.   
  
“I said stop following me,” he waved his hands on every word before facing front and storming off once more. Sara sighed, beaten and slid down against the wall of the corner. Her body shook with misery as she cried, each and every tear that escaped her eyes trailing a line of fire down her face. She had never felt so alone in all her life and she hid her face in her hands, away from prying eyes on the sidewalk.  
  
  
This wasn’t how their reunion was supposed to be and Michael was fuelled by anger so dark and deep he never wanted to feel it again. He never wanted to feel again at all. His door collided with the wall behind it, the handle causing a dent to appear in the décor and bouncing it back to him. He caught it and slammed it shut, the sound echoing through his minimalist apartment.  
  
His breathing was ragged and primal, low grunts escaping his chest each time he heaved a deep breathe in and blew it out like an angry bull. He threw his hands flat against the white tiled sideboard on his breakfast counter and rocked himself forward and backwards, trying to make sense of what had just happened.  
  
Every time he blinked, Lincoln and Sara smiling flashed before his eyes and his treacherous intelligence fabricated his worse nightmares. Lincoln’s hand reaching out to brush Sara’s. His lips hovering passionately above hers as she gave in, sinking into his brother’s arms. Michael’s eyes flew open and he growled in outrage, grabbing a photograph of him and Lincoln and hurling it against the opposite wall. It smashed into a million tiny shards and slid to the floor.  
  
Michael panted harder, his entire being racked with antagonism and like a thing possessed he hurriedly ran around his apartment, ripping images of his brother from every surface. Each time the photographs smashed the image stayed smiling back at him, mocking him. Michael paused in front of a large mirror that hung over his decorative fireplace.  
  
The man staring back at him was not him. This man was a lost man, a man full of hate and resentment. He was enraged and jealous and Michael hated him. He stood, looking up into his reflection with repulsion and for a split second he wished he had never come back today. What ifs flooded his brain as Michael continued to stare into his soulless eyes.  
  
What if he hadn’t of come back today? What if Sara had given up on his return and moved on? What if he had never left? None of this would of happened and she would most likely be curled in his arms right now as they poured their hearts into every word they shared. What if Michael had just ruined their relationship?   
  
His cell phone vibrated in his jacket before breaking into song. He retrieved it and the display read “Sara” so he quickly pressed the red symbol, sending her to his voicemail. He dropped it and it clattered on his wooden flooring before it began another ignored vibrating alert.   
  
Michael stared at himself once more, a tear seeping from his eyelids. The world wasn’t made of What ifs, it was made of Right Nows. He picked up the shaking cell phone and answered the call with silence.

 


	15. I Love You

Michael knew she was there before she even reached out and knocked the door. The sound of her tiny attempts reverberated through his apartment and through his bones as he stood just behind the door. He reached out and turned the handle, letting the door swing open slowly to reveal her tear stained face and forgiving body. He kept his eyes on the ground before him. He couldn’t look at her right now.

He released his hold on the door and walked away from her into his apartment and she followed, clicking the door closed behind her softly. A silence hung between them and neither spoke for a long time. The only sound was the ticking of Michael’s clock and some faint hums from a riverboat party below his apartment’s balcony.

“Nothing happened between us,” Sara half lied with a shaky voice. Michael still did not look at her, a sarcastic laugh bursting into the room.

“You were having lunch with him Sara,” he swung his head to hers, taking a step towards her. “Forgive me for not believing you considering what happened between us before we got to lunch” he spat towering above her. Sara closed her eyes and dropped them to her feet, a tear dropping onto her shoes.

Michael took his jacket off and threw it into an untidy heap on his couch. The expensive black fabric clashed horribly with the pine framework of his deep red corner group. He inhaled with a sigh and rested a hand on his hip, his other hand rubbing his temple. His arm left his temple and extended out, pointing outwards over the river and into town.

“He’s my brother Sara. I know what he is like,” he shouted at her but with a sympathetic tone. He didn’t want to scare her, just try and make her see what he was seeing. Try and explain to her why it was so difficult for him to see her and Lincoln together. After all, he did know Lincoln better then she did and he was more then capable of cheating on Veronica with a beautiful young woman like Sara.

Sara narrowed her eyes at him, her own rage building within her body. “Do you?” she stepped towards him, her voice jumping an octave. She positioned herself in front of him so he could not escape her gaze. “Do you even know yourself?”

Michael heaved a sigh for her but did not move any closer. Her words rang true in his ears and she was right. He didn’t know himself. He had never felt like this about anyone in his entire life and she had no idea what she did to him. His bruised knuckles itched on his hand as he recalled his outburst towards his own brother. Never in his life had he struck another human being, let alone his only family.

“Sara…” he began in a whisper but she cut him off with furious words.

“No Michael, you listen,” she began turning from him and pacing across his apartment. The hardwood flooring beneath her shoes was spongy to walk on, well insulated and inviting. Her flat shoes clomped with every step, making dull slapping noises on the floor.

“You came into my life and it was good. It was more than good, it was amazing.” He looked up into her face as she spoke but she held up her hand telling him not to interrupt. “And you made me feel like a goddess while you showered me with affection and made love to me,” her breathing increased and her words turned to a sigh as she tingled with feelings. “You made love to me Michael, and I never wanted to come back from where you took me. And then you left,” her voice broke, “And I was lost.”

“I was gone for two weeks,” Her sorrow gained no emotion from Michael as he stood stoic and unrevealing to the spot. She ran a trembling hand through her hair as she paced, and she tasted her tears on her lips. The skin on her face felt taught from the water stains and she scratched at them lightly.

“I’m sorry. Lincoln reminded me of you so much,” she laughed lightly. “Now I know why.” His face remained unchanged and his blood boiled at her brother’s name on her lips. “Lincoln found me that night at the bar and for a second I thought he could be you but he wasn’t. He was Lincoln.” Michael’s hand came up to rest, open palmed next to his ear. He pressed his eyes closed.

“Stop saying Lincoln,” he told her, his voice a mixture of anger and tired sorrow. He processed her words carefully before dropping his hand to his side and turning to face her with a wrench of heartache in his chest.

“I’m sorry,” she told him again, her own heart twisting in her chest.

“And stop saying you’re sorry if nothing happened!” Michael’s voice rose above talking level and made her jump. It roared through the apartment, drowning out the small sounds of the clock and the riverboat party. Sara’s eyes flooded once more and she turned away from him. She couldn’t lie to his beautiful face. Michael cocked his head at her action and took a step towards her.

“What?” he demanded hearing her weep. She was silent and took a step away from him, an action that made Michael flush with fright, the pit of his stomach burning with fear. “Dammit Sara, Tell me!” he insisted, his tone one of irritation.

“We nearly kissed!” She cried at him, spinning to face him. “We nearly kissed because I was drunk and wanted to feel your lips on mine and you were not there and Lincoln was,” her incoherent babble flowed from her mouth in a string of high pitched squeaks. Michael stared at her dumbfounded before he tore his eyes from hers and clenched his jaw shut tight.

“Get out,” he breathed in a husky voice. His eyes fixed on a broken image of Lincoln on the floor before him and it made his blood bubble beneath his skin. “Get out,” he repeated, snapping his head towards her and quickly moving to grab her roughly by the arm.

“Michael, please!” her cries ricocheted through his soul as her tears fell and she fought in his grasp. He dragged her towards the door and yanked it open, pushing her into the terracotta hallway and slamming it closed behind her. His own tears threatened to come as he rested his forehead against the door, eyes squinted closed trying to block out her bawling.

“Michael!” she called as she beat against the door weakly, her body shaking as she wept. She pressed her own forehead to the door and her cries filled the corridor. “I love you,” she breathed into the door, her tears soaking the wood.

Michael’s heart sank when he heard her whisper. He stood for a long time, contemplating the rest of his life without her. The way he would feel each and every morning as he awoke to an empty bed. How he would never feel her lips on his skin and touch her again if he didn’t make this right. He had been jealous and jumped to conclusions that could ruin his existence.

The sounds of her hitching breath slowed as the door latch clicked in its hole and the stained door opened. She stood taller, wiping her face and gulping down a lump of air that had formed in her throat. A silence between them came to an abrupt end when he raised his head and stared longingly into her eyes. “I love you too,” he murmured back and she rushed into his arms.

Michael held her, never wanting to let go. He crushed the side of his face to her auburn covered head as she cried against his chest. His shirt became soaked with her tears and his lungs burnt with the regret of his earlier words. He rubbed her back lightly, calming her erratic cries and he hushed her with a trembling voice.

Hauling his body from hers, he took her face in his hands and kissed her hard. Her mouth tasted like salt on his tongue and he brushed her stray tears from her cheeks with his thumbs. He pushed the door closed behind her and backed her into it, pressing his entire body to hers, missing the feel of her beneath him. His arms caged her in as they landed on the door on either side of her, his mouth hungrily devouring hers.

Sara gasped as he lifted her from the floor, and her thighs instinctively wrapped around his waist. Their kiss was broken when he dropped his head to her neck and planted feather light kisses in a line towards her shoulders. Her head began swimming and she wrapped her delicate arms around his neck as he carried her towards his bedroom.

 

 


	16. Forgiven

Sara’s hair spilled onto the royal blue sheets as Michael threw them both onto his king size bed. Her legs remained wrapped tightly around his waist and he broke the kiss for only a second while he swiftly ripped his shirt from his body. He needed to feel their skins touching and he panted huskily with desire. At the same time, with the exact same wanton craving, Sara scrambled free from her blouse, discarding it across the room.  
  
She pulled his head to hers, lips their crushing together with a static charge of passion. All the hurt and all the pain fell away as they melded together. Her bra was pink and slightly padded and the fabric rubbed luxuriously against Michael’s bare chest. Her hands roamed his shoulders as he pushed her deeper into the bedcovers, their whole bodies coming to life.  
  
Michael’s ran his hands over her face, wiping salty remnants of tears away and kissing her eyelids. She smiled a quivery smile as his soft lips met the thin flesh and his forehead laid against hers. Snivelling as their eyes met Sara brought her hands up to cup his face, mimicking his actions. She stroked his cheeks, light stubble prickling at her fingertips.  
  
“I love you,” he repeated sincerely, his azure stare burning into her. Her eyes flickered, shaking from side to side in her skull as she searched his face for any sign he was still angry with her. Finding none she inhaled hard, recapturing his moist lips for another searing kiss. Michael met her impatiently and he parted his lips with her tongue’s invitation.  
  
Sara’s body burned under him and she relaxed into his kiss. Kicking her shoes from her feet, she dropped her legs to his bed and pushed herself up the length of it on her back. Michael watched her wiggle up his sheets, her face flushed with sexual request. Hurriedly he kicked off his own shoes and crawled onto the bed, his knees sinking into the indulgent material under it.  
  
Sara grabbed at his arms as he hovered above her once more, her fingertips tingling with the feel of his contracting muscles below them. His movement was long and slow, like the prowl of a hunter after its prey. Sara felt a welcome fear enter her body as she did each time they made love. Michael awakened something deep in Sara that only he knew how to find.  
  
Michael trailed hot kisses along her shoulders, flicking his tongue out to moisten the area before sucking it back into his kiss. Sara’s breathing quickened and her eyes rolled back in her head. Her mouth hung open with desire and she let out a pleading moan. It was soft and vibrated through Michael’s lips all the way to his growing arousal.  
  
He dug his hands into the bedspread and behind her back, masterfully flicking open her bra clasp and pulling it away from her body. Her rose-coloured buds hardened in the air and Sara welcomed the burning sensation between her thighs as she became wet. Michael’s mouth was wide with awe and he was mesmerised by her breasts as she writhed beneath him.  
  
Dipping his head he captured one of her nipples in his mouth, sucking on it tenderly and rolling his tongue around it in his mouth. Sara’s hand found the back of his velvety head and pulled him closer, wanting to feel his tongue all over her body. Michael’s hands tickled her sides as he brushed her naked torso with a touch likened only to the flapping of a humming bird’s wings.  
  
Leaving one pert peak he traced his tongue across her chest to devote his attentions to her other breast. Sara gasped and arched herself into him. Michael complied with her silent request and a tiny moan escaped her on a breath as he pinched her nipple between his teeth gently.  
  
Michael burned inside and he couldn’t get enough of her in his mouth. She tasted like vanilla and all the anger had dissipated from his being. His tongue lapped at her skin with hunger and the way she moaned sent shivers through his bones to his already rock solid member.  
  
Michael took Sara’s hands and raised them above her head. Their fingers interlocked as he pushed their palms together, his physique twisting and flexing with every movement. Sara gripped into his hands, her nails pinching at his skin and washing away all the pain he felt in his purple knuckles. Her arms stayed there, seizing the fabric of the pillowcase in her hands as he left her breasts and moved lower down her body.  
  
Each time he kissed her, the air chilled a lip shaped feeling upon her sizzling skin. Sara squirmed as Michael popped her pants button free from its hole, hooked his fingers into the waistband and pulled them down over her legs. God her legs were gorgeous. Long, slender and smooth to his touch, Michael licked and kissed his way down her powerful thighs all the way to her toes.  
  
Her pants landed in a heap on the ground and he stood up to relieve himself of his own, his erection very evident beneath his white cotton boxers. Sara pouted at being left unattended and she crawled on all fours towards him at the edge of the bed. Her hands felt like fire on his skin, burning into his core with every touch. She raked her fingers up and down his thighs, causing his legs to twitch with anticipation.  
  
She positioned herself on her knees so they were eye level and her eyes bore into his essence. Her eyes roamed his body, watching his chest rise and fall with excited breathing. When her eyes met his once more, his mouth hung open with expectation and she seized it in a zealous kiss.  
  
“I love you,” she breathed against his face as his eyes flickered shut and he swallowed hard. His knees felt weak and the darkness around him came to life with orange light, the fire ablaze in his soul. Sara’s talented hands went to work on his body, her mouth following their every move. She ran them down the sides of his face and his head fell back as she planted a kiss to his Adam’s apple.  
  
Sara was sorry. She was sorry for every bit of hurt she had caused his fragile heart and she had to show him that. She reached into his thin boxers and took hold of him with one hand while she pulled his boxers down with the other. He was impressive to her sight and a guttural moan escaped his mouth when she began stroking him slowly. Sara sat back on her feet and continued her agonising torture.  
  
Michael’s hand came up to brush soft strands of red hair from her face and she looked up to him, a coy smile addressing her features. Michael watched as she twisted her hands around his member, his release spreading like wild fire through his body. When she lowered her head and placed her beautiful mouth around his sensitive tip, he nearly lost control. His hand tangled in her loose curls, his eyes flew open and came to rest on her bobbing head, and he hissed through his teeth.  
  
“Sara…” he groaned, his eyes closing half heartedly. His tongue darted out to lick his lips and he bit on his lip, trying to hold in his approaching climax. Her mouth was fiery and wet around him and she was relentless in her pursuit of his happiness. He tugged gentle on her hair as he told her weakly, “Stop.”  
  
Sara let him free, running her hot tongue up his member one last time, enjoying the taste he left in her mouth. She smiled that seductive smile up at him and his penis twitched with rage at being forgotten. Michael dropped to his knees at the end of the bed and welcomes the stability beneath himself once more. She leant forward to plant a passionately hot kiss on her mouth before pushing her backwards onto his sheets.  
  
Sara let out a whine but then a giggle when he gripped behind her knees and pulled her sweet sexual centre towards his eager face. His thick fingers curved under the elastic of her underwear and he yanked it off, marvelling at the sight of her naked before him. He puffed cool breath onto her pink flesh, her muscles contracting inside her as he did. Her head rolled sideways and then back, white flashing before her eyelids. Michael kissed her inner thighs and she inhaled hard, her core dripping with her impatient juices. He was so close to her, so close to filling her. It was agony.  
  
Finally her cries of begging paid off and he laid a hard flat tongue against her hub, sucking gently on her clitoris when he reached it. Her legs shuddered and he held them in place with his powerful hands, pinning them to the edge of the bed. Michael dipped his tongue into her, running its dull point along the corrugated skin folds of her sensitive spot.  
  
“Oh God,” Sara breathed, bunching the bed sheets up in her hands tightly. Her knuckles turned white and her heart beat harder in her chest. Momentarily she lost her senses as he pleasured her, going deaf and blind with absolute ecstasy. Michael buried two fingers in her and watched her delicate face as she rode out her orgasm with him licking up her gift to him.  
  
Sara barely had time to recover before he was moving to sit on the bed, pulling her on top of his lap. They sat face to face, eye to eye and soul to soul. “I Love you too,” Sara said straddling his manhood, reading his mind. Another second later and he was buried to the hilt within her, pulling her against his chest, wanting them to be closer.  
  
Sara slowly began to rise on his lap, sinking back down each time with a whimper. Michael met her rhythm, mimicking the actions of his penetration with his tongue in her mouth. He crushed her to his chest and their hearts beat as one. They made love slow, filling each other with a thousand apologises they knew they could never say aloud.  
  
  
Fireworks erupted in their eyes as they came together, their pinnacles of passion and lust making them tremble and shake in each other’s arms. Michael thrust into her core as it milked him with gentle squeezes, filling the tip of the condom with his seed. Sara scratched at his back, her fingernails digging into his shoulders where they rested.  
  
Michael held them together as he went flaccid in he and ran his hand over her face, admiring her exquisiteness. She was even more beautiful than the day he had seen her in the restaurant. The day he fell in love at first sight. Her eyes opened and she smiled at him, planting a kiss to his lips that reminded him of silk. It was soft and priceless.   
  
Their sweaty bodies fell together onto the sheets and they both knew they were Forgiven.

 

 


End file.
